


moral dyspepsia

by stellaviatorii



Category: London Spy
Genre: Angst, Drabble, Drugs, Episode 1, Multi, Pre-Canon, Prostitution
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-13
Updated: 2015-11-13
Packaged: 2018-05-01 10:37:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5202710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stellaviatorii/pseuds/stellaviatorii
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>He’d reached nirvana through a handful of pills and a stranger’s cock.</i><br/>or, the night danny told alex about.</p>
            </blockquote>





	moral dyspepsia

**Author's Note:**

> I literally finished the first episode of london spy about twenty minutes ago and immediately thought of this. oops?

They came like a trickle that turned into a waterfall, a pebble tossed into the river, the first of autumn’s spiders crawling into the warm damp corners of Soho. It was almost laughably simple: some kid begs for a fuck on the internet and the spectres come out of every alley to touch this desperate whore who can’t remember his own last name.

Danny answered the doorbell and it was a woman. She kissed him - no tongue, no lipstick, no hesitation - and left. Then there was a man, tall and so painfully Irish that he didn’t need to open his mouth for it to be known. Then there was a group: two girls, one guy. The girls watched him blow the guy. When they offered a tenner, he shook his head and gently pushed them back out onto the street.

For the briefest moment, with come dribbling from the jut of his chapped lips, Danny could almost hear his mother sigh like a gale over Dartmoor. _It’s alright_ , he told himself. Her ghost was gone by the next guest. 

Somewhere around midnight, a fella was pounding into him hard enough to rattle the bed frame and he started to laugh. A touch hysterical, perhaps, and enough to drive any lesser partner away, but it felt so fucking good. He’d done it. He’d reached nirvana through a handful of pills and a stranger’s cock. And oh, God, he had never felt so pure. Saint Danny, patron for lost, strung-out losers giggling into their sheets. May he answer all our prayers.

That man leaves. Another comes. And then a woman. It’s the most beautiful change of guards Danny has ever seen in his nineteen years.

Too quickly, too suddenly, one of them opens their mouth to speak. He shoves his palm against their lips, _no, no, that’s the deal, you don’t speak and neither do I._ They whisper something against the ley lines of his shaking hand, but it doesn’t count - Danny can’t hear them above the tidal wave of blood crashing through his ears.

(They probably said something like, “I’m sorry” or “Why are you doing this?”. He’s heard those syllables from enough lonely people to know they don’t mean it. Why else would they answer his ad?)

The first prick of sunlight leeches into Danny’s eyes and steals his night of freedom. With a whimper, his world dissolves into dust and sweat, and he scrambles about for his mobile.

“Scottie? I need help.”

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr](http://pretentieuxtitre.tumblr.com)


End file.
